“He needs to see a doctor,” Mr. S said. “He could have broken ribs. But I hate taking him back to Oroku Hospital. I’m sure there’s an informant there.”
“Dr. Maki can’t perform x-rays. We could take him up to Camp Foster.”
Broken ribs? My heart rate quickened as worry grew in my mind. It hurt to breathe fast, though, and I fought to calm myself to keep the pain at bay.
“Will you stay with him when I can’t?” Mr. S asked.
“Absolutely,” said the accent man. “He’ll never be out of our sight or Itou’s.”
Mr. S sighed long and wearily. “Thank you, Christophe.”
Wait, who? Arianna’s dad was named Jean, like the guy in Les Misérables. Again I tried to crane my neck to see who Mr. S was talking to, but when I finally managed to look up over the back of the couch, the men had left.
I let myself fall back to the couch. It looked like I’d be spending some more time in a Japanese hospital. Whee.
REPORT NUMBER: 20
REPORT TITLE: I Get Stuck in the Hospital … Again
SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond
LOCATION: US Naval Hospital, Camp Foster, Okinawa, Japan
DATE AND TIME: Saturday, July 5, 12:34 a.m.
MR. S HAD BROUGHT ME TO A US NAVAL base hospital fifteen miles north of Naha, in hopes of throwing off whoever it was that he was worried about. I didn’t get x-rays—I got a CT scan and an MRI and an IV. And a catheter. Yeah … I wasn’t happy about that. And, frankly, if I had to choose between reliving the beating or the examination, I would have taken the beating again, hands down. Talk about humiliating.
They dressed me in blue and white striped hospital pajamas and put me in a room next to some Japanese guy with a broken leg. It looked like a regular hospital room to me except that my pillow had a huge white kanji symbol on it. I didn’t notice much else before falling asleep.
Saturday morning, I found out that I didn’t have any broken ribs, only a whole lot of broken blood vessels and massive bruises, which had turned purple over the last day. According to Mr. S, I also had a nasty one on my right eye. My torso was spidery with purple and red lines. It was awesomely gross. I felt like an x-Man starting to mutate.
Mr. S told me there was still some internal bleeding, but it wasn’t bad enough for surgery. And since I had good blood pressure and my spleen and liver were okay, the doctor decided to observe me, waiting to see if the bleeding would stop on its own.
That first full day in the hospital, I did little but sleep and talk to Mr. S when he came in to say hi. He didn’t know how long they planned to keep me. I asked him who he thought had sent Bushi to abduct me and why, but he’d only hint that it was connected to the whole profile match thing. Seemed like a crock to me that anyone had the time, money, and desire to chase some teenage kid around the world. I wished the Mission League would just bring me up to speed on everything in the profile match case so I would know what to watch out for.
The second day I felt a lot stronger, but I was soooo booooored. I hadn’t seen anyone I knew except Mr. S, who paced around the place, paranoid that someone would find my room and try to swipe me. I suspected that Mr. Sloan was nearby as well, along with the mystery agent with the European accent.
I was sick of lying on my back, so I tried to sit up. Pain stabbed my gut, and I fell back against the pillows. It felt pathetic not to be able to sit. My roommate’s mattress was bent like a squiggly line, propping him up so he could watch the TV. It took me a while to figure out how to work the controls on my bed, but when I did, a small thrill of independence shuddered through me.
Day three, Keiko poked her head through the open doorway and ended my loneliness. “Hai hai, Pensa-chan!” She walked toward my bed, her face growing more pale with each step. “Aremaa!”
My heart swelled at the sight of her. “I’m okay.” I probably reeked. It had been a few days since I’d showered, and I didn’t have any deodorant. I hoped my hair wasn’t too messy.
She grazed her finger over my right cheek and wrinkled her nose. “Ge.”
I wondered if it looked as gross as it felt. But a beautiful girl was touching me, so I wasn’t going to complain.
She sat on the edge of my bed. “My father said Bushi … Is my fault, Pensa. I should stay away from you.”
“No!” That was the last thing I wanted.
“But is my fault.” Keiko looked down at the floor.
“No, it’s not.” I took hold of her hand and tugged on it until she looked at me. “Keiko, hey. It’s not your fault.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and I looked so deeply into them that I could see myself reflected there. I pulled back with a deep breath before I got totally lost, and I examined her injury. But her black eye was gone now. I couldn’t see any hint of it. I hoped I’d heal as fast. I didn’t think Grandma would be very happy to find me black and blue at the airport.
“It’s Bushi’s fault,” I said.
“Bushi is tako.”
I huffed a laugh at her outrage, but it hurt, so I made myself stop. Tako was a term for “jerk,” but it literally meant octopus. The image of Bushi with eight tentacles made me smile. But so did the image of Bushi looking like a taco.
“Pensa, my otosan, he does not know I come to byooin.” Her eyes flickered to the door and back as if her dad might be out in the hallway. “But I had to see you are okay. And I had to tell you something.”
“What?” But I already knew. She loved me. Wanted to marry me. Bear my children and all that. I had expected as much, of course, just not this soon.
“I dreamed about a Russian woman,” Keiko said, her voice laced with tears. “She was hurting you.” And then Keiko started crying.
I just started at her. She couldn’t mean Anya, could she? I mean, it was a big world. But seriously, could Keiko have dreamed about Anya? “Where were we, in the dream? How was she hurting me? What did she look like?”
“She had yellow hair. Very pretty face. I don’t know where you were or why you were hurt. It was just her face and your face. Nobody said anything.”
“Weird.” That wasn’t how prophecies happened for me. Why wouldn’t she have—?
“Pensa, do you have your journal here? I tried to write my dream down, but I need help.” Keiko glanced around the hospital room as if my journal might be lying open for anyone’s perusal. I followed her gaze, suddenly dismayed that I might have come at this from the wrong side. Could Keiko have made up all that dream stuff ? Why? Someone would have had to tell her that mentioning Anya would get a rise out of me. But who? Her dad?
“Pensa? Your journal?”
I looked back at those pretty brown eyes. She wanted my journal. Figs and jam. And here I thought I’d been tracking her. So did that mean that her dad was working with Anya? That didn’t make sense. What would connect Anya to Japan? “I don’t have any of my stuff here, Keiko.”
“Wakatta.” She jumped to her feet. “Oitoma, Pensa-chan.
Faito.”
Uh, oh-kay … I blinked, surprised that she’d traveled so far for such a short visit. She’d said her dad didn’t know she was here, but if she was doing someone’s bidding, it had to be his, right?
Before I got a chance to ask who’d driven her here, she gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Mata ne!” And she left.
I pondered her visit as I watched some anime cartoon on the TV. If my hunch was correct, someone had sent her after my journal.
But what if I was wrong? Maybe Keiko really had had a dream of Anya and me. Maybe she’d come here to warn me because she liked me. And if she was innocent, the poor girl blamed herself for what Bushi had done to me.
I still felt like my first theory was the most logical: God was giving Keiko visions about me so I could help her know what to do with her gift. That way, when I went back to Cali, she’d have some guidance.
Unless she was a big fat liar.
All these thoughts made me drowsy. I watched the Japanese cartoon until the cr
edits rolled and its oriental theme song lulled me to sleep.
I awoke to a familiar chuckle. Beth had sprawled out in the guest chair, her back against one arm, her feet propped up on the other. She was laughing at the television.
I turned to see what was so funny. A Japanese man wearing a smiley face mask was dumping a massive bowl of rice onto another man’s head. The man, already knee-deep in rice, pretended he couldn’t walk. Someone in a frog suit danced in the background. Bizarre.
“Hey,” I said.
Beth jerked her head toward me and smiled her dimply smile. “Hey, Tiger. I saw your girlfriend leave a while back. You two have a nice time?”
I tensed and looked back to the TV where the ridiculous man was now up to his neck in rice. “Go away, Beth. I don’t need a lecture right now.” Or ever.
She twisted on the chair until she was sitting normally then scooted to the edge and propped her elbows on her knees. “I think you do. Because I was sitting out in the lobby when I saw one half of double trouble come out of your room. You’re in the field, Tiger, training. This is not the time to play lovey dovey.”
“Like you can talk. I saw you flirting with Bushi.”
“I was not flirting. I was being nice to him to try and get information. Do you seriously think that every girl who is nice to you actually likes you?”
Was that a trick question?
“What do you possibly hope to accomplish with this little girlfriend of yours?” Beth asked. “We’ll be home in a month and you’ll never see her again.”
I didn’t really consider Keiko my girlfriend, but that was none of Beth’s business. “James Bond had lots of girlfriends.”
Beth snorted. “Okay, one, James Bond is a fictional character. Two, you are not James Bond. You’re more like that cartoon skunk that scares the cats away. Three, is James Bond the kind of man you really want to be?”
I didn’t like this topic. Beth had seen one too many shrinks in her day and was trying to act like one. So I said the only thing I thought might get her to shut up. “Keiko is my assignment. I got a red card.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Why would I make that up?”
“Good grief.” She rolled her eyes. “Then stop kissing her and start paying attention. Track and report isn’t a dating service. Look at you! You could’ve been killed. Didn’t I teach you better than this? I know Boss Schwarz did.”
I stared over her head at the TV. “There were three of them.”
“And you should have run. I told you. There are no rules on the street. There are no fair fights. You’ve gotta be ready to face lunatics like Bushi.”
“Which has nothing to do with Keiko. I’m just saying. You’ve got two lectures going at once, Beth. I can’t keep up.”
“Track and report, Spencer. Have you been? Have you investigated her past?”
“I already know she used to date Bushi.” I frowned. “You know something else?”
Beth shook her head and laughed. “Oh, no. I ain’t gonna do your work for you. If you won’t do it, you’ll learn the hard way.” She blew out a dramatic breath. “But at least you’ll learn.”
“Is this really the only reason you’re here? To yell at me? No flowers?”
“Don’t go reading more into this than there is, Romeo. Everyone’s here.” She hopped to her feet and strode toward the door. “Now that you’re up, I’ll let Mr. S know. Awesome bruise, by the way.” She smacked her fist against her cheek twice—bap, bap—and left the room.
REPORT NUMBER: 21
REPORT TITLE: Following Kozue Leads to More Questions
SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Jun Uehara
LOCATION: US Naval Hospital, Camp Foster, Okinawa, Japan
DATE AND TIME: Monday, July 6, 2:38 p.m.
JUN SAT ON HIS MOTO SCOOTER AND watched Keiko exit the Navy Base where the hospital was. She walked across the street to the shopping center and to the place where Kimura-san’s Toyota Crown sat parked. She climbed inside, and the vehicle sped away.
Jun hit the gas and followed the sedan, keeping a safe distance back. It had to be Keiko, right? He’d been certain that only Kozue had gotten into the car with her father when they’d left Naha that morning, but Keiko must have been in the vehicle before Jun arrived. His only way to tell the girls apart was the mole on Keiko’s cheek and now the necklace he’d given Kozue for her birthday, but he was too far away to be able to see either.
It made sense for Keiko to visit Supensa-san. But not Kozue. Jun wasn’t certain how the girl had even gotten onto the military base.
Shame filled Jun at the thought of Supensa-san’s attack. Jun had suspected an attack had been coming, but Toda-san had promised that the adult agents were watching Supensa-san. So when Jun had seen the San Doubou coming up his road, he’d taken Kozue into the house to protect his cover. The agents had not come to help, however, and Supensa-san had almost been taken. In this, Jun had lost honor for himself, Toda-san, and the Mishion Ligu.
What did the Abaku-kai want with Supensa-san, anyway? Jun was certain his host brother had never heard of the Abakukai or the San Doubou before coming to Naha. Jun had toyed with the idea of asking Bushi, but Bushi had already yelled at Jun for asking about the rose lab. He would only call suspicion to himself if he asked about Supensa-san too.
How would Supensa-san react when he found out that someone had ransacked Jun’s house and Supensa-san’s things? Jun was certain that the Abaku-kai was responsible, that they’d been looking for something specific. Jun didn’t like putting his parents in danger and was counting the days until the Amerikans left to return home.
He only hoped he could help keep Supensa-san alive until then.
REPORT NUMBER: 22
REPORT TITLE: I Tour a Castle, a Boat, and Get Kicked in the Face
SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond
LOCATION: Jun Uehara’s house, 17-21 Matsuo Shobosho Dori, Naha, Okinawa, Japan
DATE AND TIME: Monday, July 6, 7:16 p.m.
WHEN I FINALLY GOT BACK TO JUN’S HOUSE on Monday night, his mother had made a bed for me in the living room. She thought I needed to sleep on something softer than the floor. I have to admit, it was a relief. She’d left all my things in Jun’s room though, but I figured I couldn’t very well change my clothes in the living room, so I didn’t bother dragging the turtle out to my new digs.
But when I did go looking for clean clothes and my toothbrush, my suitcase looked like someone had dumped it out, danced on my clothes, then crammed everything back in. I mean, I’m no Arianna or Wally, but I do fold.
“Jun? Did you go through my stuff ?”
Jun’s eyes widened. “Two nights ago someone broke into our house. Everything messed up. But we thought nothing was stolen. Are you missing things?”
“My journal.”
I dug through my suitcase in a panic before remembering that I’d left my journal in the library classroom on Friday along with my facility sketch of Kimura Fitness. I breathed easier, hoping it would still be there tomorrow. “It’s okay. I left it at the school.”
“This journal is important to you?” Jun asked.
“Very,” I said on a heavy sigh. “And I’m pretty sure Keiko was looking for it.”
Jun’s expression hardened. “They are helping their father after all, I think. The girls.”
Hearing it from Jun cinched it. “Yeah.” Mother figs and jam! Every time I liked a girl—every time—she turned out to be insane on some level. “So what are we going to do about it?”
“We can do nothing,” Jun said.
“No. I can’t sit back and let the Twinadoes cause mass destruction. Not on my watch.”
“What can we do?” Jun asked.
“Catch them in the act. If we can get evidence of them doing something for their dad or saying something, then we can give that to Toda-san or Mr. S or whoever, and they’ll bust them.” I just hoped we’d have better luck than Candace trying to get the dirt on
Phineas and Ferb.
“But it’s only our word,” Jun said. “How will we get evidence?”
I pulled out My Precious and waved it at Jun. “These babies can work magic. So be looking for times you could record her, eavesdrop. Do you know where to get some bugs?”
Jun wrinkled his nose. “What kind of bugs? To scare?”
“Never mind. But if you need me, text me. And I’ll text you. Deal?”
“Hai hai, wakatta,” Jun said.
But Jun’s mom kept me home the rest of the week, which was, frankly, one of the most boring times of my life. Jun’s mom was there, of course, feeding me cheesy toast and tea. But there was no computer, only Japanese TV shows and the couch. All day long. All week. I sat watching the clock until Jun, Gabe, and Wally got home from school.
I kept hoping Jun would bring Keiko to see me so I could try and get some dirt on that sneaky daddy’s girl, but he never did. I asked him once, but he said he couldn’t. I didn’t push it. Maybe he was embarrassed about his house or something. But it killed me to miss four days of seeing Keiko when we were only here for three more weeks. As much as I wanted to bust her, I also wanted to be wrong. Sure, the odds were psychotically against me. But I really liked thinking about the “What if?” Or maybe I was just reliving our time together in her dad’s office the night of her birthday. Like I said, I was bored.
Mr. S came by daily to check on me, which was pretty much the highlight of every day. That and the cheesy toast and Japanese omelet squares. Pretty sad, I know.
After three hours of sitting on the couch on Tuesday, I decided the best thing I could do was stay in shape. So I started stretching, which hurt like King Kong squeezing my waist, but I kept at it. Because if I just lay there all week, I’d be even more stiff, and that wouldn’t help. So I kept at it, and by Friday, my bruises had mellowed. Instead of being purple and red, they were brown and yellow. Still gross. But at least I could stretch my arms over my head without whimpering like a girl. And my sunburn was totally gone. So I had that going for me. Which was nice.
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